


The Pursuit

by eldritcher



Series: Red Falls The Dew On These Silver Leaves [1]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4008709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldritcher/pseuds/eldritcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Glorfindel finally gets to do what he wants to Sauron, on a field of turnips. He could have skipped the turnips, Sauron thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Pursuit

“Lord Mairon!”

I turned to face the young Elf who had hailed me. He was undoubtedly one of Eru’s most perfect creations, with his chiseled features, dancing emerald eyes and splendidly proportioned frame. As if to embellish this vision, he was crowned by a halo of pure gold that gave him a striking resemblance to Tulkas. 

“Laurefindë,” I greeted him quietly, not letting his attractiveness work its lethal charm on me. He was kin to the Noldor royal house. I had troubles enough of my own without giving in to the innocent seduction of one whose family were high in favour at the Elven courts. But my eyes could not resist the temptation of following the treacherous path a glistening drop of sweat made down his slender neck.

“I was wondering if I might walk with you for a while, if you wouldn’t mind very much,” he asked breathlessly, his eyes taking on a dark shade of forest green as they raked my form. Oh, he was bold, this son of perfection; bold, painfully handsome and tenacious; a dangerous combination that was becoming increasingly hard to resist. 

“Thank you!” He grinned happily, taking my silence for consent with his usual confidence, and took my arm before leading me onwards. 

I increased my pace to keep up with his long strides. Before I could even utter a word of protest, he turned to face me, his features solemn and noble. 

“I don’t care how long it takes, Mairon, but I will have your heart.” 

The gallant, stubborn declaration was so uniquely Laurefindë that I smiled involuntarily. Hope flared in his eyes and he waited with a nervous grin for my answer.

“As I have told you many a time, Laurefindë, we are ill-suited. You are young and infatuated,” I said crisply. 

I had no time and patience for these things, my mind was set upon schemes and conspiracies that would ultimately earn me my dream of world domination. Laurefindë symbolised a whole basket of virtues that might make most people kill to have him as their lover. Unfortunately, I was not one of these people. 

“Do you truly think so?” he asked in that soft, dangerous tone which he used when he was intent on winning a debate.

“Yes.” I pulled my hand away from his. “I need to go now, Laurefindë. Aulë is expecting me at his forge.”

“No!” He caught my shoulder and forced me to turn around and bear his scrutiny. “I will not let you leave before you give me at least a single reason that proves we are ill-suited.”

“I don’t have the time to deal with your immaturity; unhand me now.” 

I glared at him. He stood his ground calmly, as he always did. It was one of those things that made me think more and more of him with each passing encounter, his lack of fear. 

“Of course we are ill-suited!” I blustered on, affected by his cold silence. I did not want him to be angry or disappointed. But this was getting on my nerves….this pursuit, as I must call it. “You are young. You are handsome. You are brave. You could have anyone you want. So why don’t you go and pick your paramour from the royal court and leave me in peace?”

“You are yet to give me a single reason as to why I should not want you,” he said mildly, crossing his arms in that determined manner which made him infuriating and alluring at the same time. With his head tilted at that particular angle, his halo of gold conspiring with the mischievous wind to reveal and yet, conceal his features, I suppose even Námo Mandos would have been persuaded into the Elf’s bed. 

“I have goals. I cannot set them aside to indulge your whims.”

He raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. He must have learnt that gesture from those mad High-Princes of the Noldor. I had seen him once or twice in Nolofinwë’s company at the baths. I frowned.

“Be careful with Nolofinwë,” I blurted out before I could even weigh my words in my mind. 

Laurefindë laughed. The melody of his mirth could even make flowers blossom, I had always believed. 

“Jealous, Mairon?” he asked, looking too smug for my comfort. 

“Not at all.” I tried to attain my usual mask of cold detachment. “Merely a piece of good advice.”

“Since when did you take up advising others?” he asked amusedly, stepping forward with his natural boldness. 

It was a dangerous position to be in. His breath warmed my face. The sweat drops on his skin were tormenting me by their proximity. I could not meet his eyes. I knew they would be sinfully dark with desire. A gust of wind brought further complications as his hair caressed my face. I closed my eyes involuntarily and swallowed, wondering what had happened to my cold reserve. 

“You could, if you wished,” he offered me in that low tone which promised more than the thawing of my detachment.

“I don’t care to.” 

I forced myself to speak those words as flippantly as I could. He was not important. My goals were important. I could not afford to waste my precious time on something as mad as this.

“Perhaps you don’t dare to?” His voice was deliberately provoking.

I chanced opening my eyes, only to find that our noses were nearly touching. I gulped and closed my eyes again. 

Taking a deep breath, I stepped back and said carelessly, “Maybe that, Laurefindë. So you should find someone braver to take up your offer.”

“I needn’t,” he assured me easily. “I dare enough for both of us, Mairon.”

“Wh-”

I did not get around to completing that sentence, or any other sentence, in the next few instants. Fingers that I had often admired from afar, fingers that I had dreamed would perform unspeakable acts upon me, his fingers, came to my throat and began tracing the throbbing veins with such delicate finesse that my breathing hitched and my knees went weak.

When those fingers inched inexorably upwards along the sensitive skin of my underjaw, I knew I was lost. But when a lazy index finger brushed my trembling lower lip, a strangled gasp forced its way out of my throat and my hands came to clutch his forearms. There they remained, undecided if they wanted to push him away or drag him so close that I could feel every sinew under his skin. 

“Ah, Mairon!” he breathed, his voice hoarse with desire, and something wet cleverly traced the shell of my ear eliciting a shocked yelp from my lips. 

The sound undid his control and hands came to seize my waist. The next I knew, I was lying dazed on the hard, cobbled street where we had been standing mere moments earlier. His long, muscular frame lay atop mine, his eyes testifying to his state. When he arched in to capture my lips with his own, his hands holding me down so brutally and his pelvis grinding against mine, I knew I would do anything his ardour demanded of me. 

He nudged my mouth with his tongue, entering and ravaging with such passion when I complied. I shuddered and my hands hovered over his body, too weak and disoriented by his forcefulness to even think of reciprocation.

The merry chiming of a pony’s bells reminded me of our location. Laurefindë continued his heady assault on my senses with his fingers and tongue so ardently that my half-hearted attempts to speak went almost unheard.

“Horse—road—not safe!” I finished with a yell as he plied his skills upon my jugular vein.

“Dear, dear!” he exclaimed. “We need to shift!” 

Before I could even attempt gathering my scattered senses, he had rolled over. The road was sloping on the left towards the lowlying farmlands. I clung to him as we rolled down the road into the turnip farm below. 

“Laurefi-” My gasp was swallowed by another of those thoroughly intoxicating kisses. 

He paused and sat up, straddling me with such intent playing in those emerald eyes that I blushed for the first time in my life.

“Too long have you led me on this chase, Mairon,” he told me solemnly, even as his fingers set themselves to the task of disrobing me. “Far too long. I will have you now, unless you are very set on keeping that appointment with Aulë.”

It took me several moments to even understand what or who Aulë was. The fact that he was devouring my unclad body with such hunger lurking in his gaze was a severe distraction to my thought process.

Seeing my dazed expression, he said blithely, “Well, I shall take your silence for assent, shall I?”

He did. My nails gouged the black earth of the freshly tilled farm even as I screamed aloud to the skies. He was a statue of gold in the light of Laurelin, sweat breaking out on his torso and features lending his skin a rich sheen. His hands gripped my hips as we rode higher into the lands of passion. 

When his fingers came to play their magic on my loins, I jerked upwards and promptly lost myself to the blackness of passion’s aftermath. 

“Mairon? Mairon?” His melodious voice calling me to reality was something I would never forget. 

“Laurefindë,” I whispered, wondering why my cheeks felt moist. 

“Hush…”

I obeyed, too readily. His warm lips came to kiss my cheeks and onwards to kiss my eyelashes. I arched up to let my lips meet his. The salty tang told me the reason behind my moist cheeks. Our gazes met. 

“Did it hurt?” he asked, his eyes deep pools of worry and yet holding a measure of satiated pride. 

“Not much,” I lied. 

He nodded pensively and shifted his gaze to my collar bone. A wince crossed his features as he saw the damage his teeth had wrought on the area. 

“Where did you learn to do things like these?” I asked, after some long, uncomfortable moments of silence.

He met my gaze incredulously and asked, “Wherever would I? I was just doing what I have dreamed of doing to you for a very long time.”

I think I must have blushed again as I relived the events, for he was staring at me with great interest. 

“Where do we go from here?” he asked softly, looking very young and insecure now that his passion-driven boldness had been spent.

“You have blown my mind, literally,” I said wryly. A bashful, smug grin flashed across his handsome face at the compliment.

“So?” he persisted, tracing my nose with keen interest.

“So, would you mind taking me through these very intriguing set of incidents again when I am recovered enough, slowly?” I asked him with as much coyness as I could muster. 

High colour flushed his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“I…I would be very happy to do this again.” The words were rushed and his gaze was fixed stubbornly on the nearest turnip.

This was woefully out of my area of expertise. I tried to think what would be the most apt thing to do next. His right hand was hovering uneasily over my chest. I caught it in my own and brought it to my lips, imprinting a chaste kiss upon it.

“Oh, Mairon!” 

He laughed and swooped down to kiss me, his countenance transforming immediately into such complete happiness that I sighed in awe before surrendering to his youthful ardour. 

The pursuit had ended.

 

Footnotes:   
This forms an interlude to Red Falls The Dew Upon These Silver Leaves set within the Journal-Sunset arc. Check out the Sunset master index for further details.


End file.
